


Red and Gold, Purple and Black

by Krekta



Series: Challenging Relationships [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Discovery, Disregards Civil War completely, Drug Use, Drunkenness, Frenemies, Friendship, Haves and Have-Nots, Loneliness, Loss, M/M, Money, Pity Parties, Self-Esteem Issues, not civil war compliant, takes place after age of ultron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:04:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6606721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krekta/pseuds/Krekta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't think of themselves as Heroes (of course each sees the other as one). They don't much see themselves as 'boyfriend material' either. Plus they've always considered themselves to be straight, and one of them is married. This is going to take some effort!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red and Gold, Blood and Money, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my name is Jessie Blackwood and I am making a note here as suggested by the AO3 Mods. It is with deep regret that I have to say that my great friend, known as Krekta, died last year in July. Any and all of her stories will therefore not be updated, although I have control of her account as her legacy to me. Any queries, please ask me. Thanks for the kind comments on my own posts, and AO3 have assured me her stories will stay as long as I have control of her account, and I have no intent to remove any of them. Thanks once again.   
> Jessie Blackwood.

Tony had a reputation for falling into bed with anyone, at the drop of an innuendo. He'd managed that reputation very carefully ever since his college days. Of course, it was backed up by truth in the early years, but since meeting the Avengers it's been harder to act on and even harder to want to act on. It's been nearly a year now since he last saw any bedroom action, and for Tony Stark that might as well be a lifetime. Since the tabloids didn't have enough scandalous fodder to keep him famous he's had to work extra hard to keep his name in the more reputable papers. All work and no play makes Tony a bored genius.

His hunting license wasn't cancelled, of course, especially since he and Pepper broke up. He was free now to chase anything that breathed. He'd even considered looking for a tumble with Loki a couple of times, in his dreams anyway. It just didn't feel like it could work with anyone now, though, not even some dastardly villain like Reindeer Games or SPEAKS-in-Third-Person-Capitals. 

In the past he had been assured that his money was what people would go for. He would buy all the sexual favours he fancied and not have to look far for people's motives for being with him. Of course he still had money – tons of it – but there might be other things people would want from him now he was associated with superheroes. That whole fangirl thing, for a start – he knew he wasn't equipped to fulfil those needs! Disappointing fangirls was more than he wanted to contemplate.

Of course he wouldn't disappoint anyone sexually; he was good at sex at least. Not so good at living up to what others expected of him, or hoped for, though. Even Pepper, who had asked so little of him, had left filled with disappointment in the end. He was glad she had found someone better, even if he had been outclassed even by his ex-chauffeur, in the end.

The whole Ultron débâcle had been the breaking point. He'd tried going to Pepper afterwards, and had literally offered her the world, but it hadn't been enough to persuade her to keep him along for the ride. He'd looked Banner up afterwards – even he couldn't stay of the Stark radar, but the guy was busy with his own stuff and didn't need or want a mopey Iron Man hanging round his place drawing attention to him. Besides, Big Green wanted Natasha, not him, even if he did come with the world's greatest laboratory and fattest cheque book. In the end he just seeded enough hints for The Widow to find her romeo and then scampered back to his echoingly empty tower, even though he wanted to stick around and see if they made it work, really.


	2. Black and Purple, and Blue: Nocks, Nocturnes and Bruises 1, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint Barton contemplates Marriage, Family and Losses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> '. . . the children of the night, what sweet music they make' - Bram Stoker, _'Dracula'_.

He was back at the farm for the first time since Ultron tried to ruin his life. Of course Ultron was just the latest of many ass-holes who had lined up to destroy all chances of happiness for Clint Francis Barton.

It had been weird letting the Avengers into the most private of his bolt-holes. He'd worked so hard to keep the farm and it's 'inhabitants' a secret. The illusions were all shut down right now, though. It was a silent sham of a place, a hollow hope for normality, and he didn't deserve its comfort right now.

He'd stuck it out at Cap's shiny new training camp as long as he could, but all the youthful optimism and hero worship had got to him in the end. He knew better than that; life never goes the way you want, and hope is a floatation aid for Losers (Nat would have said it better, but then everything sounds better in Russian).

 

Clint strolled into the barn to maul with the tractor, then remembered Stark had fixed it while he was there, during the Ultron thing. . . Now there was a stupid thing! Stark got so bored, he made them a new enemy. Damn science nut – More money than sense! He had good taste in scotch, though.

He climbed into the hay loft and considered things. People figured he was just dumb muscle; they didn't understand how much went into being a top archer. The top archer, actually. He never went to the Olympics, but he knew he could have. Well, he could have if he didn't have a record starting so far back and running into the present. If he wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D.'s property by the time he was twenty. Even his marriage had Fury's fingerprints all over it.

It was getting dark. He liked the dark. There was a temptation to drag out the blanket he had stashed in this loft and drift off into sleep, but it would be moonless tonight and he liked that challenge. His hearing was busted, but his eyesight was close to superhuman and that was why he had the codename of Hawkeye. If he picked out any decent prey he could cook it up a storm tomorrow, freeze some to take back to base with him. If nothing tasty was stirring he could always bake tomorrow instead, maybe make something for Nat.


	3. Empty Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is back in the tower, alone.

It was nearly two in the afternoon when Tony woke up. His head was sore, but that was his norm again these days. Last night he had played about, mixing himself numerous cocktails and talking to empty bar seats, making noise and playing music loudly, to fill the emptiness of the tower. He'd thought of inviting some ladies up, but hadn't really felt up to being nice to real people, in the end.

Buying company was too sad-sack for him these days. Of course he knew most people only hung around him for the sake of his money, bumming drinks off him -- or Porsches, depending on their ambitions and confidence -- but _letting them_ would just make his depression worse right now.

Going to bed had been a last resort measure, an attempt to shut off the barking of his black dog through oblivious crash-time. It had actually worked, probably thanks to the amount of alcohol rushing through his system.

 

The faint hope that his depression would have abated overnight was shattered as he came slowly to consciousness. The grey skies beyond the windows didn't help. The ants running around doing business at the foot of the tower made him think about first Loki, then Ultron, and both soured his mood further. The worst thing really, though, was not having been greeted by a friendly voice when he had eventually surfaced. He missed JARVIS more than he could tell anyone. They'd surely laugh at him for missing his invisible friend's sarcastic and tender words. He had considered using FRIDAY in place of JARVIS, but it just wasn't the same, and somehow felt disloyal towards his old AI. 

Could he be bothered setting up some coffee to brew? Or was it so much easier pouring himself a whiskey for breakfast? His belly rumbled, so he decided to ring down and have the staff cafeteria send him up a proper breakfast and a pot of coffee. He was so lucky to live where he (and many others) worked!

 

Tony had the cafeteria staff leave his meal on a trolley just through the lift doors. He padded over, bare feet ruffling his thick carpet and leaving a faint trail, and fetched the trolley through into the lounge area. He flumped into his favourite overstuffed chair and commanded his television into life. He didn't have a friend stashed inside  the walls of the tower anymore, but it didn't mean he was willing to forego his home comforts, like having pretty much everything 'on-demand'.

He watched some cartoons. 'My Little Pony' was his secret vice; he liked Pinkie Pie best. Her voice was a bit shrill, given his headache, but the eternally chipper and kind brightly-coloured animals, living in their magical land, were far enough removed from his reality to draw him in for a while. Hios breakfast vanished inside him while he watched and hummed along to familiar tunes.

He wasn't a naturally depressive person, he could be the life and soul of a party after all, but when he did slip into the gloom it took a lot to get him out; usually other people. Tony Stark was not good at shaking off his black dog without help. He'd resigned though, put aside the camaraderie offered him by the Avengers Initiative, and split up one final, and catastrophic, time with Pepper. He could call any of them apart from Pepper, but would they listen? Did they ever really want to listen to him --Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, philanthropist, lush-- even when he was 'consulting' with their team? He didn't like listening to other people whine, so why should they tolerate him now he was just another 'concerned' citizen? He hadn't go so far as to delete their phone numbers, but he had thought about it more than once. He'd be left with nothing but 'work' numbers if he did, though, and that would be pitiable.

He thought about taking a suit out. He could pretend he was Rainbow Dash maybe -- racing through clouds and making it rain? The populace didn't take so kindly to him doing that though; his suits were just another form of souped-up vehicle now, to be admired and envied by the less-well-off, and his fly-bys were to be complained about to city hall. Working on a new one seemed pointless too, when all the fun had been taken out of flying them. He decided, after watching six episodes of MLP back-to-back, to return to bed, with his whiskey bottle and his music for company.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thiis me making a start. I promise to finish this and to add further 'challenging relationships' too. I'm not a fast writer though, so if you prefer to get to the end fast maybe this one is not for you.
> 
> Of course offering up the start of a new story just weeks before Civil War comes out and changes Canon again is pretty dumb of me, but I promised if circumstances dictated it I would take a random challenge on, so here we are.


End file.
